


One More Second

by GillyTweed



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, naps, soft stuff made cause spite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillyTweed/pseuds/GillyTweed
Summary: “Ready for dinner?” Clarke asked softly as their foreheads rested against each other. Lexa sighed and nodded slightly, but not quite yet ready to move away from the blonde's warmth even if her stomach was beginning to make its demands known. She wanted to imprint the feeling of this moment into her memory, to sear it into her brain so she’d be able to remember it always. She wanted to remember the warmth, the sleepy yet comfortable tiredness, the smell of Clarke, leather and charcoal and the pine soap that she’d taken a liking too, mixed with the scent of spices and freshly baked bread. She wanted to remember Clarke’s soft giggle, the gentle almost silent sighs she let out as they leaned closer together. She wanted to remember it all.





	One More Second

**Author's Note:**

> This entire fic was made cause of spite. Some anon keeps complaining about how I don't write Lexa as stoic or badass enough for them, in which I respond that they can suck it and I'll write Lexa as soft and with as many emotions as I want. And thus 2600 words of soft fluff was born.

Lexa looked on as the council of ambassadors argued, a slight throbbing starting to form behind one of her eyes. She’d watched this conversation go around in circles multiple times over the last few hours, and it was always set back to square one by one ambassador or another's stupid pride. She understood that some things couldn’t be argued about, such as putting a road through one clan's sacred burial grounds, that was literally building a road to disaster, or some sort of coup, but she couldn’t understand why they were arguing so vehemently about the difference in colour of a cloth shipment.  
  
She resisted the urge to sigh and and rub her increasingly aching temples. The debate may be ridiculous, but she had to keep a professional facade through it all, even when she felt like throwing one or both of the arguing parties off the balcony would actually make more progress in the immediate situation. Instead of indulging her rather violent thoughts, she turned her eyes to Clarke.  
  
The blonde ambassador looked rather calm and stoic, professional as she’d learned to be over the past year in her duties as a diplomate, however, Lexa could see the slight tenseness in her shoulders, the jumping muscle in her jaw, and the way she twirled her pencil on her knuckle, all of which told of a far different story. Clarke was easily just as irritated as she, and Lexa hoped the blonde didn’t do anything rash.  
  
Clarke was the youngest in the room, bar the ambassador in training that had accompanied the diplomate from Shadow Valley, which made anything she did under far more scrutiny than any other ambassador. She’d had several private messages from the other ambassadors hinting at their concerns about Clarke’s inexperience, but there had yet to be any event that would warrant Clarke’s removal from her position. However, as things stood, there were several ambassadors who would take any opportunity to remove the blonde, simply because that would mean the need of a replacement, a replacement who would have no experiance with external politics.  
  
“Ambassadors.” Lexa’s heart leapt into her throat at the sound of Clarke’s voice, breaking her from her thoughts. The room had gone silent as all attention had been drawn to Clarke. The blonde continued to spin her pencil, a mesmerizing twirl that never broke rhythm as she spoke.  
  
“If I may suggest a possible solution?” Her tone was clipped but polite, following protocol by asking to join a debate between two factions that she had nothing to do with.  
  
“By all means, Wanheda, grace us with your wisdom.” One of the arguing representatives, a large muscle bound man named Narek from Boudalan, said, tone mocking. He spoke her title as though it were a joke, and to him it was. He hadn’t seen the meal hall covered in the blood of the men, women, and children of the Mountain. He couldn’t realize the destruction Clarke could cause if pushed far enough.  
  
Clarke simply smiled in response, her pencil still twirling. Her eyes glinted with a dangerous light, like a predator stalking its prey until it was the proper time to strike.  
  
“The Boudalan have their own dying facilities, do they not?” It was a rhetorical question. Everyone knew of the brightly coloured finely made silks that the Boudalan exported, to not one would have to be extremely uninformed.  
  
“Of course, we’re known for the colours of our silks, Girl! Skaikru’s ignorance stretches farther than anyone could have thought.” The ambassador boasted and insulted like he had no concerns at all, not realizing that Clarke was moving into position for the kill.  
  
“Well, then why don’t you dye the cotton yourselves? Without the added labour of dying it for you, the price is much lower because it is raw materials. You would then get the colour you wish, Blue Cliff would sell their access cotton as well as reduce the time it would take to produce considering the dying process would be eliminated from the production. Which takes about five days to a week, correct?” Clarke turned her attention the Blue Cliff ambassador, who nods and looks rather relieved at the sudden intervention.  
  
“See? You will get the colour you want, the materials sooner than in the past, and you would only have to trade for the raw materials. How does that sound to you, ambassador?” Narek didn’t respond, teeth grinding while all the other ambassadors nodded in agreement. It was clear that any other ambassador would take the deal but the Boudalan ambassador was stalling for reasons unknown, reasons that, at the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care about.  
  
“Narek.” Lexa finally spoke up, wanting for everything to finally be over so she could go find something for her ever growing headache. “I believe this solves all your problems, yes?”  
  
Nareks eyes widened slightly, obviously alarmed at her hard tone. At this point, to refuse such a deal would impact the man’s reputation negatively, and he knew. Everyone knew, and by how Clarke was trying to conceal a smirk, she knew most of all.  
  
“It does, Heda.” Narek admitted grudgingly. The glare he sent Clarke’s way was obvious, and the sharp grin Clarke returned it with just as. Lexa held in a sigh, breathing through her nose to soften the sound of her exasperation. Clarke was being far more antagonistic than usual.  
  
“Then this meeting is adjourned. I expect a formal agreement to be outlined and agreed upon between the Boudalan and the Blue Cliff, then for it to be presented in two days time where it will be finalized. You are dismissed.” She let a little sharpness creep into her tone, revealing a hint of her carefully concealed aggravation. If she was relieved that it got the ambassadors out of her throne room just that little bit faster, she didn’t let it show.  
  
Once the room was cleared, she let out a deep sigh, dropping her head into her hands and scrubbing at her eyes harshly until she saw starburst behind her eyelids. She was tired, very tired, and she could feel sleep pulling at her, dulling her senses and slowing her movements. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed rest.  
  
She stood with a groan and stretched, several of her limbs popping as she did so. It was a short walk to her rooms but somehow it felt far longer, like the journey between Polis and the capital of the Plain Riders. She had to make a conscious effort not to drag her feet as she walked, keeping her posture straight and head held high despite the imaginary weight that wanted to tip her chin downward.  
  
She felt ready to collapse once she’d closed her door behind her, the weight of her shoulder guard tipping her dangerously to the side. She plowed on however, instead of throwing herself on the bed like she wished to, she took the time to remove her guard, jacket and boots, slipped on a clean shirt and a soft pair of cotton pants. She washed her face and ensured everything was in it’s proper place before turning to the bed her body longed for.  
  
Of course, just as she took a step towards it, a soft knock came at her door. Sighing, she considered ignoring it, sending the person away so she could sleep, but her sense of duty won out over her exhausted. Cursing softly, she went to open the door.  
  
Normally when Clarke Griffin stood in her doorway an automatic smile would creep onto her face and a flame of excitement would warm her chest, but today, when the world weighed on her just that little bit more than normal, her lips struggled to lift and her chest only produced a soft spark that guttered out quickly.  
  
“Hello, Clarke, what can I do for you?” Clarke frowned at the tiredness in her voice, blue eyes scanning her form with a doctor’s sharpness.  
  
“I…” Clarke began but cut herself off with a frown. “Lexa, are you alright?” She kept her voice quiet, obviously conscious of the guards several feet down the hall. “You look rather pale.” That fact had Lexa raise a brow along with moving aside to let the blonde in. She shut the door and just as she turned a hand had found it’s way to her forehead. “You’re a little warm.”

  
“I am fine, Clarke.” She stepped away with a soft smile. Seeing the blonde concerned for her made the spark in her chest grow, but it didn’t burn away her mounting exhaustion. “What can I do for you?”  
  
“I wanted to know if you would like to share dinner, but in all honesty I’d rather you rest.” Clarke stepped closer, this time putting a hand on Lexa’s arm. Her concern was obvious and her palm warm. It took conscious effort for Lexa not to lean into the touch.  
  
“I am fine, and I’d be happy to share dinner with you.” Sharing meals with Clarke was rather enjoyable to say the least. Their conversations ranged widely, from politics, to life on the Ark versus the Ground, the different clans, farming, fishing, hunting, and those were a small portion of what they’d spoken about in the past as Clarke was endlessly curious about everything earth had to offer. “Just let me get changed and we can go to the dining room.” Before she’d even had the chance to take a step, Clarke held her firmly in place by a grip on her arm.  
  
“How bout this? We eat here, so we can just sit and relax without hundreds of people around us?” Lexa felt the urge to agree instantly as her head throbbed with a vengeance, but she bit her lip as though she was considering it. She didn’t want to appear weak after all.  
  
“If that is what you wish.” She worded her response carefully, but the way Clarke smiled made her think that the blonde knew she barely had to twist her arm at all.  
  
“Great, I’ll go get the food. Meanwhile…” Clarke pulled her in for a surprisingly gentle embrace. “Relax. You deserve rest too.” And then she was gone, out the door before Lexa could blink.  
  
As she made her way to the sitting area, the warmth from the hug slowly faded, making her shiver. Without thinking, she pulled a blanket that was folded across the back of the couch and wrapped herself in it in a futile attempt to keep the last of Clarke’s warmth within her. 

* * *

She woke to the smell of rich spices and the sound of gentle scratching. For several moments it felt like she’d gone back in time to when she was a young Second, living with Anya, waking from short naps after training to a simple but flavourful stew and Anya sharpening her weapons with rhythmic strokes of her whetstone. However, small inconsistencies slowly filtered through.  
  
The smell of fresh bread accompanied the stew, something that only ever happened during festivals or feasts. The scratching was much softer than that of a whetstone, quiet and inconsistent in its rhythm.  
  
Then other differences began to prod at her senses. The blanket that was wrapped around her wasn’t scratchy like those included in a Seconds hunting kit. It was soft and warm, pulled up around her nose to keep the cold out. She didn’t ache from training, although her limbs felt heavy with tiredness, and there were none of the usual sounds of the bustling evening crowd as they passed outside their tent.  
  
After taking a moment to gather herself, she blinked her eyes open, taking in the room. Clarke sat across from her in one of the large padded chairs, sketchbook propped up on her knee as she scraped her charcoal against the pages. A fire crackled in the fireplace, a tray with bowls of stew and plates of bread set near it to keep warm. Yawning, she stretched, her joints popping as the heaviness lessened.  
  
“Have a nice nap?” Clarke spoke softly, pausing in her drawing. Lexa nodded, holding in the urge to groan in pleasure as she slumped back onto the couch, eyes closed. She was comfortable and warm, and at just the right level of sleepiness for her brain to be quiet and not filled with the hundreds of things she’ll have to deal with the next day.  
  
She heard Clarke chuckle softly and the gentle rustle of paper as a sketchbook was set aside. She peeked an eye open to watch as Clarke skirted the low table between the couches and chairs to grab the tray of food. Lexa shuffled over just enough for the blonde to sit on the edge of the couch, placing the tray on the center table. She was still far too comfortable to even think of moving. Soon enough fingers found their way into her hair, untangling knots and combing out snarls, all while gently massaging her scalp.  
  
“Still tired?” Lexa nodded but leaned into the gentle touches. She might be the Commander, expected to be poised and stoic every second of the day, but at this point she didn’t give a damn. She was comfortable, she was being given affection that made her toes curl in pleasure, and Clarke was sitting beside her. Titus could stuff it with his lessons about stoicness and “being commander is being alone.”  
  
She hummed softly as Clarke gently scratched at the nap of her neck, suddenly getting the urge to kiss the girl she loved. She struggled upright with a slight groan, the blanket falling around her waist. She rested her head on Clarke’s shoulder for a moment, taking the time to enjoy their closeness.  
  
“You know I love you, right?” She murmured softly, her words muffled by the cloth of Clarke’s shirt. Clarke paused, her hand having gone back to its place on her neck once she’d settled.  
  
“Yes, and I love you too.” Lexa couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face, Clarke’s words making her feel giddy with happiness. Lifting her head, she snaked her own hand behind Clarke’s neck, drawing the blonde in slowly so she could pull away if she wanted to.  
  
It was Clarke who sealed the gap, moving the last couple inches so their lips could meet. It made Lexa sigh happily, the softness and the warmth, the gentle movements, and slow swipe of Clarke’s tongue as she asked for entrance, entrance which she gladly granted.  
  
They drew away from each other, giggling, after Lexa had gently nipped at Clarke’s lip then rubbed their noses together affectionately. The two opposing actions, one hard and the other soft, was somehow funny. A nonsensical sort of funny, but in their shared moment of quiet things didn’t need to make sense.  
  
“Ready for dinner?” Clarke asked softly as their foreheads rested against each other. Lexa sighed and nodded slightly, but not quite yet ready to move away from the blonde's warmth even if her stomach was beginning to make its demands known. She wanted to imprint the feeling of this moment into her memory, to sear it into her brain so she’d be able to remember it always. She wanted to remember the warmth, the sleepy yet comfortable tiredness, the smell of Clarke, leather and charcoal and the pine soap that she’d taken a liking too, mixed with the scent of spices and freshly baked bread. She wanted to remember Clarke’s soft giggle, the gentle almost silent sighs she let out as they leaned closer together. She wanted to remember it all.  
  
“Just one more second.” She breathed out, letting her shoulders drop as she let her muscles loosen. She just needed one more second so she’d remember. One more second so she’d remember until the next night they had like this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hit me up on tumblr @GillyTweed


End file.
